Ninth Spiral
by ironbutterfly25
Summary: Waking up to him, she began her descent and her ascension. [Pre-RE5]
1. prologue

**Author's Note: Reposting all of my RE works under this pseud~**

 **Warning: Story has elements of non-consent / dubious consent**

 ***** Prologue is inspired by Anne Rice's Sleeping Beauty Quartet *****

* * *

 _"Softly rip me up_

 _Gently embrace me_

 _Kindly save me"_

* * *

A little over two years.

The file before him recorded the start of her stay in cryostasis — _August 30, 2006_.

He scribbled the end date of her 'treatment' at the top of the page — _September 7, 2008_.

He had almost forgotten about her existence. The only thing that set her apart from the other experiments was the fact that he knew her before.

She was just a test subject with a corresponding number...

And a name.

 _Jill Valentine_.

* * *

Uroboros consumed most of his time.

It was perfect with how lethal it had become.

Uroboros wasted most of his time.

It continued to fail its purpose — the selection of the worthy.

It remained a puzzle in need of its lost piece.

A code needed to be cracked. A mystery needed to be solved.

Jill's blood could _temper_ its lethality.

* * *

He had almost forgotten how she looked like.

The researchers took her out of the stasis chamber. On a steel bed, they laid her out for his inspection and secured metal restraints on her limbs.

She could easily be mistaken for a corpse.

Skin starch white. Hair lackluster and dry.

Her breaths were too soft and shallow.

The sound of chatter around him increased. Every lab rat in the room seemed to have something to say _about her_.

"Leave."

Assistance was no longer required.

* * *

Stillness surrounded her.

Her vitals were stable. But she wouldn't wake.

He freed her from the cuffs after a while of observation. His fingers brushed a few stray strands of blonde hair so pale, it appeared almost white under the bright lights.

The chill of her skin seeped into his gloves.

He snatched his hand away after a long minute or two.

Disturbed by the sense of _calm_ emanating from her.

* * *

Nothing could disrupt her silence.

Not the howling of the Lickers. Nor the raging of the Majinis.

Various mutagens were tested on her. But she persevered, sweating the infections like they were nothing but a seasonal flu, and sleeping on in peace.

Half of him hoped she would turn like Lisa Trevor. Half of him hoped _not_.

The scientists had developed a _fascination_ for her, submitting requests to acquire her as their subject, and brimming with confidence that _with her_ — a _breakthrough_ was within reach.

He ordered them to take her out of the laboratory and bring her to his private quarters.

It seemed he had found a suitable _partner_.

* * *

Eight days.

It had been eight days since he tried to stir her from slumber.

She lay on his unused sheets, barely clothed and attached to the right apparatus to provide her sustenance.

Every night he spent some time studying her.

But this night, a mistake was made.

 _He touched her_.

* * *

The coolness of her body _roused_ him.

It had been such a long time.

And it was so instantaneous that the feeling caught him by surprise.

He had forgone nourishment, respite, and _sex_ after his rebirth.

A god had _no need_ for those.

* * *

Eyelashes so pale and long they tickled her cheeks. He traced the shape of her face with a gloved finger.

It was as if he was seeing her for the very first time.

Thumbing the pout of her lips, he briefly wondered if she could taste the leather.

There was no change on the rise and fall of her chest.

How long would it take until she wakes?

* * *

He palmed a full breast. The peak was a pale rose.

Her skin held a coldness against his warm hand, _slowly_ dissipating.

She melted against him.

* * *

An experimental press.

Her flesh was heating up.

He rubbed her nipple between his fingers until it pebbled.

Before he dared to steal a breath from her mouth.

* * *

He didn't expect her to wake with _his kiss_.

But he still found himself affronted by the aftermath.

Her flimsy gown was fixed back in place, all the while he was wrestling with _his own want_.

* * *

A picture of her dirtied with mud and blood entered his mind.

He never took her for a self-sacrificing one.

She had always been composed and level-headed.

Practical even.

Like him.

Practical Al — Marcus had called him once.

Now he had _Practical Jill_ in his hands.

Useful to him in more ways than one.

* * *

Ninety-nine percent death rate. The nines glowed red while a single number glowed green.

A _one percent_ difference was unimaginable before.

But here they were.

Around _sixty eight million_ people would survive.

All because of her.

* * *

He disliked the _arousal_ that build in him whenever she came to his line of sight.

A loss of control over her meant one thing.

She was _somehow_ gaining power over him.

And he could not allow such a scenario.

* * *

It was a kind of _torment_ , watching her sleep.

Pure and unmoved.

And he was _unbearably hard_ where he sat a few feet away from her.

His hand brushed against the strain in his pants, breath hitching at the contact. His eyes never left her still form as his fingers slid over the throbbing flesh under his clothes.

He didn't let himself release.

For he liked the _punishing_ thrill of it all.

* * *

She started invading his thoughts on times where in he was most occupied.

Agitation came first before realization.

 _She was his_.

He could do with her as he pleased.

* * *

His decision now made.

He came to her.

His hands were steady as each button on her sleepshirt was undone. Polished lilac was a lovely color on her pallid complexion.

She was almost alive...

Like a flower in spring.

* * *

Not an inch of her went untouched.

He was nearly inexperienced in his lust.

The tips of her breasts hardened with his lips and his spit.

Her body responded to his need.

His nails scratched over the thin strip of hair on her mound. She was _moist_ to the touch. His digits parted her labia, sliding on that delicate bundle of nerves, pulling the clitoral hood so he could stroke the sensitive glans.

 _Stimulating her_.

He wanted to stretch her cunt with his fingers.

But he believed he could _open her up_ well enough with his cock.

* * *

She was mostly bitter on his tongue with that chemical taste.

The only noises in the room were the wet sounds made by his lapping mouth that went along with his hungry groans.

The insides of her thighs were so smooth... smooth like satin. He littered that smoothness with bruising bites.

She made little noises of her own, nearly imperceptible without his enhanced senses.

She was _feeling everything_ and that knowledge urged him more than it should.

* * *

The initial thrust tore into her, making her bleed around him.

He chose a pace not too hurried despite his desire burning.

He was sweating... and so was she.

She lay _lifeless_ and _full of life_ beneath him.

* * *

He gave her his seed, filled her to overflowing.

Kissing her slightly parted lips, he knew he was far from done.

And with a roll of his hips, the previous rhythm resumed.

* * *

He had her for hours.

And he thought that it would be _enough_.

His curiosity satisfied.

He only found himself _eager for more_.

* * *

For three consecutive nights, he sought gratification with her body.

It was almost telling with the tinge of pink on her skin.

He was fucking her awake.

* * *

Her eyes moved restlessly behind her lids. Brows furrowing together. Lashes fluttering.

She finally gazed at him, panting above her.

He came undone with the sight of _clouded pleasure_ on her face.

* * *

Breathing even again, he claimed her lips in a chaste kiss.

And in her confused state, she reciprocated.

The small action caused him to deepen the touch, tongue teasing the seam of her lips.

A smile bloomed on his mouth when her tongue shyly met his.

"Did you rest well, my dear?"

* * *

 _"How short a time the fire of love endures in a woman_

 _if frequent sight and touch do not rekindle it."_

 _― Dante Alighieri, Purgatorio_


	2. treacherous chastity

About seven hours had passed before she came to again. He had several specialists check on her health and current _state_.

"What is the last you remember?"

Multiple times that question had been asked. It was the first he himself spoke of the query.

She turned to him, her blue eyes shining like crystals, glittering with unshed tears. Confusion created a _fear_ in her.

 _"You and falling..."_

* * *

 _"I can't remember... anything else before..."_

Her words remained ringing in his ears long after he had left her quarters. In the garden of the sun, he soaked in the natural light seeping into the caverns.

Flowers in vivid reddish orange surrounded him. Not unlike lilies from the east in appearance, they called to him. A more profound beauty resided in them - sinister and deadly.

 _Sonnentreppe_.

She was like the _Stairway to the Sun_ , a boon and a bane depending on its keeper.

She was a gift that kept on _giving_.

First, her blood and body.

Now, her mind and memory.

— _All his to do with._

* * *

Retrogade amnesia. Some patients recovered within days. Some took decades.

In her case, eternity might not be enough.

The world would be reborn in a few months.

* * *

In the next week, curiosity carried her through out the manor.

Her footsteps bore no sound against the limestone floors. Her gaze bore no appreciation of the contemporary Mediterranean-styled home.

She was attracted to the sunlight and wandered out of the main entrance. The bare soles of her feet were scorched by the merciless African heat. She paid it no mind, heading straight to the decorative fountain. Her skin found solace in the moist grass encircling the stone structure.

The rotting guards watched as she bathed her feet in the water. Their eyes rabid and afire. The parasites crawled out of their mouths, like petals littered with pointed teeth unfolding.

Jill stared back at them - _undaunted_.

* * *

Coolness was what she sought it seemed. Her exploration brought her to the infinity pool. The water's color was a blend of deep blues and greens, like a small sea in the thick of a rainforest.

The white gown seemingly melted over her milky pale skin, clinging on every inch, accentuating every curve.

With bated breath, he waited to be noticed.

* * *

His presence was well concealed. Impatience pushed him to reveal himself.

She situated herself at the far end, contemplative and unaware of the want brewing inside of him.

"Come." She stayed where she was, ignorant to the status he held in the compound. "It's ill-advised for you to bask in the sun's rays so soon."

Etiolation. Her complexion suffered the process observed in flowering plants grown in the absence of light, weakening the body, making her vulnerable.

Such weakness would not be tolerated.

 _Strength_ she would gain by being with him.

* * *

She went under, going against his order, like a _siren_ \- sinful and irresistable.

The passing seconds were counted unconsciously. Humans in good health could hold their breaths for approximately one hundred and twenty seconds.

She resurfaced after nearly four minutes, gasping for air and grasping around his boot.

With a hand wrapped around her wrist, he hauled her out of the water.

Leaning heavily on him, she tried to keep herself steady. Her breaths were warm and wet against the crook of his neck. Her legs were shaking, feet tangling in sudden depletion of energy.

She was secured in his arms before her body could crumble.

* * *

Cajun chicken pasta. Linguine twisted around a sterling fork. Each seasoned strip of chicken breast was chewed in earnest.

It was surely unnerving to be watched while eating.

But she managed to look unconcerned, seated in a chair upholstered in silver leather, and clothed in a blue button up dress shirt. She fed herself another forkful.

"You don't eat?" Tone almost casual.

"Not anymore."

She was surely overwhelmed by the _abnormalities_ around her. But she acted like nothing was amiss.

"Do you want to try?" Tone almost challenging.

She pierced a piece of lean meat then handed the filled utensil to him.

He had no need to feed.

But as the cream coated his tongue, he acknowledged a need for something else.

And under the perfectly ironed table cloth, he was plagued by a _faithless lust_.

* * *

Deft fingers pressed every ivory key, the sable ones were skipped.

"Do you recall anything?"

It had been a month since her rebirth.

Notes were struck in succession, the unmistakable start of _Für Elise_.

"I recall nothing important... hardly memories... only melodies..."

Beethooven's symphony saturated the opulent room.

She sat, _ethereal_ under the glinting chandelier.

He stood, _astounded_ by her existence.

* * *

Every night, Jill would wait for him to return to the manor, like a dutiful wife upon the French divan.

She looked lonely, so lonely and _so gorgeous_.

Her expression would not betray her emotions.

But her eyes would brighten enough at the sight of him.

* * *

"Can I come with you?" A modest request issued.

She was already dressed for the occasion. Crimson ensemble, off-shoulder and ruffled.

He allowed her to accompany him.

* * *

The bioweapons could trigger her memories. Canines controlled by the Plagas made her frown. Villagers infected with the t-Virus deepened that upset.

"No more." She walked away from the observation window.

He could not be accused of refusing to lend a _helping hand_ in her recovery.

* * *

By mid-afternoon they were at the Sun garden.

"Are these... Oriental lilies?" Careful fingers caressed a bloom.

"They're in closer relation to sunflowers and daisies... and they are _poisonous_." She had plucked one. A flash of alarm washed over her as she looked to him for instruction.

"Poisonous when ingested." A breath of relief was released.

"Like the lily of the valley?" He supposed the sweet scent was a common trait of both flowering plants.

"Mary's tears pale in comparison." was his response.

She fixed the flower in her hair, tucking the stem behind an ear. A shy smile and a blush adorned her face in his extended silence.

Jill Valentine - almost looking like a _saint_ before him, immaculacy nearly on par with the blessed Lady.

He _ached_ to tarnish her.

* * *

"Is this real?" She picked something up from the flower bed.

He made his way to her and stayed close, their arms a hair's breadth away. A _sapphire_ had been discovered, azure-hued and tear-shaped.

"The caves have an abundance of gemstones."

"Can I keep it?"

"I suppose." No one was left to care for the treasures after all. "The natives have a name for it." She brought it up against the light, the cuts immediately reflecting rays.

"What do they call it?" She looked at him, pleased with her little find.

 _"Blue enigma."_

Her gaze glinted the same.

* * *

A thud on the rosewood flooring, followed by dull sounds of limbs lashing and hitting sturdy furniture.

A resounding sob was heard.

She had woken from a bad dream again, only to find herself _lost in nightmares_ still.

* * *

As usual, she crawled back on the bed and cocooned her body with the thick covers.

It would take roughly an hour for her to fall asleep once more.

She was climbing out of the bed a minute later - an oddity in her routine.

* * *

It was probably a bathroom break.

But she walked out of the room, stared at the Venetian plastered wall, and took a peek at the end of the hallway.

He clicked the video feed close.

She was heading for _his room_.

* * *

She invited herself in without even knocking, and happened upon him sitting on the argentine chaise lounge with a book in his hand.

"I realize... I haven't thanked you for saving me." Her sincerity could not be easily deciphered. "I keep on having dreams... None of them make sense."

"Rushing yourself to remember would only be detrimental." The book was abandoned on the wood-carved table.

"Can I stay here with you?"

* * *

There was the possibility that amidst her confusion, she forgot the _familiarity_ they had shared on his sheets - and how _non-consensual_ it all had been.

There was also the tendency of her falling out of the bed with how close to the edge she had tucked herself in.

"Occupy the whole thing." She blinked up at him, confounded by his command.

"You don't sleep?"

"Not anymore."

She moved to the middle.

"Do you want to try?" The pillow closest to her was patted as invitation.

He had no need to sleep.

But when she eventually fell into a fitful rest, he acknowledged a need for something else.

And under the dimness of the room, he _throbbed_ hard and _dripped_ with that need.

* * *

Several times a week, he would take her with him to the laboratories.

A harmless demand had also been made. She said his presence chased the imagined monsters away.

So every evening, he would join her under the covers.

* * *

"Are you ready to retire?" The urgency was masked in his voice.

She nursed the carton of soft serve closer, sucking on the spoon, ensuring that the vanilla-flavored ice cream would not leave traces on the silverware.

"I will be..." Another spoonful was consumed. "After this." She wiped at the white and sticky cream that escaped the corners of her mouth.

His mind entertained other things with the same consistency she could be _savoring_.

* * *

It was pointless for her to begin her slumber at the other side of the bed.

It did not take long for her to invade his personal space.

He noted the irony of her finding comfort in _him_ \- the monster she had died for to end.

* * *

Something was different tonight. He could tell she was not at rest. All the pressing and the rubbing meant to provoke him into acting.

"You can touch me." A whisper that could be easily brushed off. "Isn't that the price I have to pay for being saved by you?" Nimble arms sliding around his form. Warm body molding against his back.

" _You can touch me_." A temptress on his ear.

His hands locked around her wrists, bruising pallid skin as a warning.

"Your permission is unnecessary."

Her pained gasp was almost musical.

* * *

She was well-behaved in the nights that followed, relinquishing the aspect of seduction.

He was no longer needed to sleep by her side, or so she said.

But she had no rules to make or unmake.

His whim was law.

* * *

She was a deep sleeper, a probable effect of her prolonged and forced slumber.

Lying on her side with a leg thrown over a pillow, the position left her open.

The intensity of his desire was understandable. It had been months, well over two since he had her last.

No eating out. No fingering. She could wake with the _tearing_.

The head of his cock was purpling and leaking as he split her nether lips. The jostling thrust disturbed her rest. The ruthless rutting ruined it irrevocably.

She started _resisting_ \- bucking until she worked a hand underneath herself.

"Does the pain appeal to you, Jill?" She was stimulating her clitoris, dulling the pain with self given pleasure.

He cut the intimacy that tied their slick bodies together, pulling out rather abruptly.

She was placed on her back. Her labored breaths and the pinkish glow of her skin were enticing. He relished in the taste lingering on her fingers - _blood and precum_.

* * *

He pinned her body and cuffed her hands with his, realigning himself with her abused pussy.

Her moans got louder with each thrust. Her passage constricting around him with each push. The drive was maddening.

She took all he gave and _more_.

* * *

She lay pliant and satiated as he wiped her down with a warm cloth.

Semen would not stop leaking from her... and she kept on making those small noises whenever her clit was touched.

He looked at her face when he was done. She had been watching him accomplish the task.

Her fingers were pulling on her left nipple, absentmindedly.

"I remembered something."

He was more interested on ridding the erection he was sporting yet again.

"And what is that memory?"

He fisted himself as his digits tested her vagina for another round.

 _"Sex with someone else... Do you know who Chris is?"_

* * *

A progress report of the research on Lickers was what greeted him - jarred awake from a _dream of her_.

He had not visited the estate for the past four nights since _her advances_. Further study on the Progenitor demanded his undivided attention.

His handset's screen glowed bright as ringing sliced through the stillness of the room. He picked up the call.

"Miss Valentine would like to see you, Sir."

* * *

Windswept and almost sunkissed, she awaited him in the garden. Dress in dusty blue, flowing and strapless.

"You haven't been _home_ for a while."

Home - dwelling for a _family_ , a unit in which they did not belong to.

His domicile was a world _yet_ created.

* * *

She appeared out of place amongst the rusted machineries, even the lethal flowers that bonded with her blood were unsuitable for her visage.

"What are you doing here?"

She was taken aback by his hostility, for she had blinded herself to his callousness right from the start.

"I'll go back to the house then."

Hurried steps on the uneven stone grounds.

He grabbed her by the elbow, wrenched her close, and _tainted her purity_.

* * *

Jill did not recoil from his kiss. If she believed she could handle it then so be it.

Her body was laid along the centerpiece of the human race's destruction and salvation.

She welcomed him, unknowing to who he was beyond the pretense of a savior.

He touched her through the panties, found her _slick_ in anticipation.

Pristine outside. Unclean inside.

 _And only his_.

* * *

Contorting in unmistakable stinging pain. She was _glorious_ in her agony.

He pried her open, firm grip on her knees. His thrusts were brutal as her tears stained the earth.

The entirety of her trembled when he marked her deep, undid by the heat of his seed.

Playing house was not an option.

But Jill could be _his toy_ still.

* * *

Her palms were painted with the flowers' essence, crushed in her hands as she tried not to break.

Streaks of red and orange and colorless decorated her skin.

Her eyes were piercing under the setting light.

He let himself completely in her cradle. She reached for his face, fingers tracing over his chin.

And with a laving tongue, he cleared those tips of toxin.

Before he sealed her destiny with a kiss.

* * *

"I remembered something."

An echo of his fleeting dream.

"And what is that memory?" Unaffected by his cruelty, she had settled on his lap, sore and unmistakably satisfied.

"It was raining." She held a flower, stroking a pattern on the petals where vermilion bled to yellow.

"We were falling." He held her, branding her skin with bites that would linger in red and blue.

"Was it... from a castle?" A recollection so poeticized, it was nearly worthy of a winding romance.

"Then I died in your arms."

* * *

 _"Lost are we, and are only so far punished,_

 _That without hope we live on in desire"_

 _\- Dante Alighieri, Inferno_


End file.
